


Lovesick

by Lola_moon291



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama Queen Jerome, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, It’s sweet and short, Jerome Has Mommy Issues, Jerome Valeska is Bad at Flirting, Light Angst, Love Triangles, M/M, Nerdy Bruce, Nicknames, Oblivious Bruce Wayne, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pessimistic Jerome, Series, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_moon291/pseuds/Lola_moon291
Summary: Jerome a resident student of Arkham High knows exactly how he feels, with object certainty, nothing could ever change that. Right?
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Brief Bruce/Bridgette, Bruce Wayne & Selina Kyle, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Past Jerome Valeska/Bridgette
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

The problem with being in love, love in general, Jerome found, was an equal exchange, a game of pretend. Some annoyingly dependent individual with nothing better to do then go around confessing their “feelings” would always love the object of their unwanted affection more, and while the difference may not be noticeable at first, caught up the the false optimism of puppy love and hormones, it would without fail, create a divide. An innate separation. Love is fake. A combination of chemical reactions that make people dumb enough to do something like procreate, forward the undeserving species. All wrapped up with a shiny bow of empty promises, unrealistic expectations, and a time bomb ticking past you until it’s too late to realize you never really loved at all. A pathetic excuse to “quell” humanity’s incessant need to be remembered, remain, to feel less alone on this godforsaken fucking planet in their godforsaken fucking town, Jerome had never really gotten the big fucking deal never wanted to, he was better off, saw it for what it was. And then he met Bruce Wayne, and now he’s fucked.


	2. Bait: Piece of Mind, Piece of mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome recounts his first day back at Gotham high. facing old flames, and adding gasoline to a new one, what could possibly go wrong. In other words, Jerome's a greedy bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I got a request to update this badboy hope you enjoy!

**September 10th, Present.**

Jerome had never thought much about the consequences of his delinquent actions, which given his knack for always leaving his chaos unscathed never seemed to be a problem, at least until he met his one and only, wind in his sails, Bruce fucking Wayne. Given that the only words they’ve exchanged were a cruel depiction of how he’d dismember him if he had a chance and Brucie’s little lecture on respect, didn’t matter, Jerome always had a way of getting what he wanted, he didn’t see why he couldn’t have him. It was simple really, base desire, who was Jerome to deny that. He could see the way Bruce looked at him, they have Precalc together, everyday. 4th period, when Jerome shows up of course. it’s adorable really their little interactions, or would be if every other word that came out of Bruce’s mouth wasn’t telling him off. Maybe it still is.

**2 Weeks Ago. The First Day of School.**

Jerome wakes up as the sun rises through the trailer window, ma’s been gone with someone asshole from the strongman show, she’s done worse. It’s 6 am, which means just about time for him to haul ass. School had sent one to many truancy letters and now ma was on his ass, nagging always fucking nagging. Shit how is it already 6:25? “Oh. Fuck.” Jerome’s dressed and walking the long way, it’s quiet, no one ever takes the long way, Jerome would say it’s because he’s surrounded by a bunch of unimaginative assholes with no personality, but it’s most likely just the stabbings, that and the occasional murder, it is Gotham after all. 

Jerome’s at school before the first bell has a chance to ring, a shitty school schedule plastered to his binder, scrawled out his unreadable handwriting.

_**English 4** _

_**Civics** _

_**Ap psych** _

_**PreFuckingCalc** _

_**Economics** _

Fucking  _ wonderful _ . Just what he needed a shitload of classes that he had no business taking, and that no one ever bothered to fix. Gotta love public school.

Jerome skips the majority of his classes, he won’t pass em anyway, almost never does, not that it matters. Jerome can see Bridgett walk in the schools ah “gender neutral bathroom” making his way over 

“Bridge” he says caustically, then used ta go out last summer, until bridge’s brother’s found them in her backyard, and well whaddya know a cracked rib and black eye really make ya “reevaluate” your relationships, they hadn’t spoken much since then, but bridge had good shit and he needed some of he was making it through a whole semester at Gotham. She smiled, a tight lipped forced smile that made his stomach do that annoying fucking flip it always did when they were for lack of a less disgusting term, together. It didn’t matter. 

“Yes?” 

“I was wondering if you had anything you’d be willing to part with?” She flung herself on one of the school issued sinks, her head titled just high enough to avoid looking him directly in the eyes, she always did have trouble with his eyes, though to be fair, most people did. That, like most things, left the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Pretty fucking please,” he said with a biting edge he could never seem to get rid of when they spoke. She nodded, eyes still hooked above his head. Thank god.

“Yeah, yeah fine. Um you know Bruce? The new kid” what fucking knew kid, Jerome thought, all type of alarm bells going off in his head, his face was as always the perfect mild mannered mask he wore to make everyone else more comfortable. 

“No ah what new kid?” Bridgett smiled, a small but genuine smile, one that Jerome used to know devastatingly well, a smile that had previously been reserved for him, and now, the new kid has that smile plastered on her face. Jerome wants to murder him. 

“You seriously haven’t heard?” 

“No.” Jerome said dryly “I haven’t heard. Bridge.”

She chuckled. “Yeah well, he’s supposedly this super rich kid, his parents were Martha and Thomas Wayne.” Jerome had heard of the Wayne’s a little bit before his time, they’re dead but Wayne industries were practically the cogs that left this hellhole of a city functioning. What he didn’t understand was how this had anything to do with him getting his drugs.

“Okay so what Richie has the best hookup or somethin? Is that why you’re giggling about him like some crushing school girl?” He said sarcastically, hoping she missed the genuine interest lacing his tone. Still she giggled, small hands lacing their way through brown hair, he did always have a thing for brunettes. 

“Yeah something like that, we have a mutual friend. Anyway he’s got my shit so find him, and tell him I sent you, he’s got whatever you’re little red head desires, okay?” She was close, teasing. If it was two months ago, Jerome would’ve leaned in until the space between them was nonexistent. Kiss her soft and sweet just how she liked it, put his hands through her long hair and pretend like they were so much more than what they were. He didn’t, if he had the impulse too, he would’ve, but now he won’t. 

Obviously he’d been staring to long, her giggling had faded into nothingness as he looked into her, maybe he was sending mixed signals, his hands on either side of the sink, his grip white knuckling, maybe he was doing it on purpose, just to see if she’s bite, take the bait and run with it, even if she knew it was a trap. She did, bridge always did. So he kissed her, sweet and gentle just the way she liked. He’d like to think he did a good job of stifling the laugh threatening to escape but there was no hiding the smug grin on his lips. By the time he pulled away, Bridge had come too, the spell of him off, and she was pissed, always so pissed. 

“Fuck you.” She laughed out bitterly. 

“Aw, baby cakes don’t be like that” he let his voice drip with faux concern. It was bullshit but it was funny and if Bridge wanted to move on to some rich asshole orphan drug dealer well, he wasn’t going to make it easy. “While I’d love to continue our riveting banter, I’ve gotta get to class,” 

“What, since when do you go?”

“Well can’t get suspended on my first day? Where’s the fun in that?” Jerome was walking out, a backpack slung over his shoulder before bridge could say quickie. Not turning to look back as he said. “Oh and I ah can’t wait to meet Bruce.” 

Jerome walked into the stale atmosphere that was Mr. Wilt's Precalc class. Right on time, wonderful. Jerome took his usual seat, this was his second time taking this class, and by now it had become almost routine. Second seat third row to the back. He made his merry way over. 

Except theirs, some pretentious asshole wearing a turtleneck in the middle of august firmly planted in his seat. How inconvenient. Jerome sighed loudly tapping on the desk when turtleneck didn’t respond. Turtleneck removed one earbud looking up as Jerome gathered his attention. 

“Can i help you?” The boy asked sternly. Jerome looked him over, pretty wavy dark hair, not a strand out of place, and a set dark eyes to match. He looked regal, some kind of Princess slumming it in the confines of a public school, astonishingly out of place in the shitty linoleum desk, in his black turtleneck neck, and dress slacks. Jesus what was this kid forty? Jerome screwed up his eyebrows as if the problem wasn’t blatantly obvious. 

“Yeah you're in my seat.” He smiled, all teeth and no friendliness. He hadn’t noticed turtlenecks sketchbook until he set it down, dropping his art pencil carefully at its side, and sizing Jerome up. The boy was small, lithe. Jerome had at least a couple inches on him that he could tell, most likely stronger, and if they were going to fight he’d hold his own, maybe even win, maybe even worse. The teacher droned on either oblivious to the altercation or uncaring.

“We weren’t assigned seats.” Turtleneck responded. One of his perfectly manicured hands clenching in and out of a fist. Interesting.

“Yeah well I always sit here.” Jerome said maybe he could bait him too, make him snap, he was obviously desperate for a fight, with the right push Jerome could probably get him to snap.

“Yeah well now you don’t” 

Jerome smirked. “Do you happen to be new here?” Turtleneck’s brows scrunched up in a way that could only be described as adorable, like a confused puppy. 

Turtleneck responded eventually. “Yes I am.” 

“Ah figures, since no one in their right mind, would knowingly piss me off.” An eye twitch, new kids hands are just itching to be on him. 

“Yeah or maybe I just don’t care if I piss you off. Freckles.” Jerome was going to kill him. It took about two seconds to grab new kid by his turtleneck and throw him out of his seat. He’d thought about kicking the shit outta him but just in case his oblivious fucking teacher decided to write him up he wouldn’t. Just took his seat. The new kid sent death glares directly at him, from the floor as he picked himself up, raking his hands through his perfect hair. Taking the seat right behind him. Jerome turned his head to face him a laugh on his lips as if to say “no hard feelings”. 

“Im Jerome, by the way.” New kid was fuming. Good. 

“Bruce.” He gritted between his teeth. “I’m Bruce Wayne.” 

Huh. So that’s Bruce Wayne. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thats all for now folks and as always. Till next time dolls ;)


End file.
